


Prayer in Every Spark

by Laylah



Category: Wicked Gentlemen - Hale
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Demons, M/M, Pre-Canon, flight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-13
Updated: 2009-11-13
Packaged: 2017-10-02 14:37:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Our rooms had bars on the windows, because the hard-faced nuns and the scold of a headmaster knew what we were capable of. But tonight some careless acolyte had left the narrow stairwell to the roof unlocked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prayer in Every Spark

The night air tasted so sweet I needed no other excuse. Our rooms had bars on the windows, because the hard-faced nuns and the scold of a headmaster knew what we were capable of. But tonight some careless acolyte had left the narrow stairwell to the roof unlocked.

Or perhaps Sariel had charmed the door open with another of his talents, because he had reached the roof before me. "Belimai," he said, and offered me a sharp-toothed smile, wicked and confident and beautiful. The thin light of the moon through the clouds was plenty for us, enough to light the fiery crimson of his wild hair and the tempting heat of his eyes. "It's a nice evening, isn't it?"

I nodded. "They'll have searchlights out," I couldn't help saying. I didn't intend for it to stop me, and Sariel wouldn't be here if he felt otherwise.

"The clouds hang low tonight," he answered. "The Inquisition can't catch what they can't see."

We Prodigals are proficient at temptation, and easily as weak to it as Adam's sons. I could no more refuse the opportunity than I could bring myself to love St. Augustine's nuns. The night beckoned, spreading out before me lush with the scents and hidden colors that the daylight chased away. I smiled at Sariel and stepped off the edge of the roof.

Somewhere less dangerous, I would have let myself fall, first. The thrill of cheating death, of soaring up from the cobbles at the last moment, was still potent. But I had no desire to be caught before I'd even begun, when it was a perfect night for flying. I soared upward, twisting the air currents around me, turning them to my bidding as I rose toward the sky. The sharp bite of the wind brought tears to the corners of my eyes, and I laughed. Up here it was easy to believe that we were the finest of His creations, heresy though it was. How could anything be more glorious than this?

I rolled onto my back, floating, letting myself be borne up. No searchlights had been lit yet. The Inquisition's hold on the skies was not quite so absolute as they liked to believe.

Sariel rose up beside me, catching my hand. The warmth of his fingers was more obvious in the cool of the night. "Satisfied with only this?" he asked, and pulled me higher.

We swooped through the night sky, diving and rising again, circling the heavy spires of St. Christopher's. At times it seemed as though one of us chased the other, or that the pair of us together hunted some elusive zephyr. The cold stung my cheeks, made the points of my ears burn, but it felt wonderful. Sariel's laughter reached me on the wind when I stooped and dove past him. I was the better flier, of the two of us. He made up for it with other talents.

Our luck couldn't last forever. Eventually, someone on the ground noticed us, and the burning white searchlights split the night. It was time to hide, to land someplace out of the way and wait for the Inquisition to tire of scouring the sky for Prodigals they couldn't find. Instead of dropping toward the shadows of the cathedral or the bridge, though, Sariel took my hand and we climbed higher still.

The low-hanging clouds made the night even darker when we swept into their cover. Their dampness clung to my skin, colder and cleaner than the fog of the streets. I could remember clearly those giddy first flights I'd made when I thought myself a lost angel. Only then I had not had company in the skies, and now Sariel's hand was warm in my own.

He drew me close to him, in the chill dark of the cloud, and kissed me. He tasted of heat and spices, of the wild conjurations that he hid from St. Augustine's reformers. I held tight to him, intoxicated by his warmth.

"Sariel," I whispered. It was a plea, though I could name what for.

He smiled. "Yes," he told me.

We could not undress, if we had any hope of preserving our modesty when we returned to the school. But Sariel still bared as much of my skin as possible, pushing my unbuttoned shirt off my shoulders to tangle around my wrists, easing my trousers down off my narrow hips. The air chilled me, shivered my skin to goose flesh, but his touch was heat. His mouth closed on my collar bone, biting, sending a thrill down my spine. His teeth would leave marks.

I arched against his hands as they slid down my body. His every touch seemed to sear my flesh, branding me with our mutual need. I felt as though he was the only source of warmth in the world, as though all heat flowed from him. His hands teased, coaxed me to readiness. I pleaded for release, swore at him, prayed to him. I knew it for blasphemy, but I did not care. Sariel inhaled the cold fog of the cloud and exhaled hot smoke that curled against my skin, enveloped me in his scent. I would have given him anything he asked, and all he asked of me was pleasure. When I spent myself in his hands, he breathed my name like a benediction.

"That's a good look for you," he told me afterward, as I caught my breath. "Wanton and ravished." He licked my essence from his fingers, shameless. "Do you suppose they've tired of searching for us yet?"

I glanced down, but no light penetrated the thick blanket of the cloud. I had no desire to return to earth in any case. Up here, there was nothing to come between us. "Perhaps," I said. I shrugged my shirt back on to free my hands. "We're not done here in any case."

Sariel arched one brow, smiling. "No?" he asked.

I reached for him. "Let me show you."


End file.
